


swan lake

by kenny_and_pals



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: M/M, Pre-Relationship, Pre-Time Skip, Roasting Lorenz, tiny mentions of lorenz & dorothea, white heron cup babey
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-27
Updated: 2019-08-27
Packaged: 2020-09-28 03:00:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20418797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kenny_and_pals/pseuds/kenny_and_pals
Summary: “You sneaky witch,” Claude hisses between his teeth, unable to tear his eyes away from Dimitri. “you, Hilda, are evil. Despicable, in fact!”





	swan lake

**Author's Note:**

> this is so short. pls forgive. I was just happy with how it turned out so I decided to post
> 
> also title comes from the actual waltz not the movie lol

To be perfectly honest, Claude didn’t even want to come watch the White Heron Cup, anyway. 

He had much more important things to be doing. Such as actually working on the homework assignment Teach had decided to torture them all with, which he should have finished by now, but Hilda’s laziness is rubbing off on him. And speaking of which, she’s the one who forced him to come in the first place. 

“Lorenz needs our full support!” she’d exclaimed, dragging him away from his room. Honestly, this is very likely just a ruse to get out of having to do some chore or another; Hilda never seems to run out of methods to escape things she wanted no part in. Claude doubts Lorenz needs  _ any _ support, considering he was the one to pretty much beg poor Teach to choose him as their house representative and all that… but if anything, attending the cup is certainly a nice gesture. 

So here he is, sitting amidst his fellow students, eagerly awaiting for this stupid thing to end so he can bail. 

Hilda barely spares him a glance. She smooths down her skirt before leaning back on her seat, patting Claude’s arm with a warm hand. “You could at least pretend you want to be here, you know.”

“Ah, but that would be no fun at all!” Claude replies easily, though the small grimace on his lips betrays his actual feelings. “The competitors should feel motivated to impress me. That’s sure to make their moves all the more precise.”

“You sure think highly of yourself.” Hilda comments with a sigh, examining her nails with a barely-there frown. “You think they can even see you all the way back here?”

She’s right. Because they arrived much later than they should have, the pair had been forced to sit all the way in the back, almost unable to see the actual dance floor. Claude simply shrugs, placing his hands on the back of his head and propping his feet on the seat in front of him, absolutely no regard for whoever occupies it. “If they look hard enough. I’ve been told my presence is enough for others to gravitate towards me.”

“You sound like Lorenz.” Hilda grimaces, twisting a lock of pink hair around her index finger. Claude stifles a laugh, almost unbalancing on his seat as his fist flies to muffle the sound. Instead, he lets out a very undignified snort, disguising it with a cough, attracting some curious looks towards the two of them.

“Heavens, no. Don’t compare me to that jester.” Lorenz and himself didn’t get along so well, which isn’t due to lack of trying (at least on his part). They were more like oil and water, forced to coexist but refusing to mix. “His haircut is a thing of nightmares.” 

Before Hilda can answer, probably to scold him about being nice or something of the sorts, Alois’ booming voice interrupts her. All eyes fall upon the three judges, silence sweeping through the crowd in respect to the participants.

As the three contestants stepped in, Claude’s breath rushed out of his lungs like he’d been punched in the gut.

He isn’t surprised about Dorothea. Not at all. She is a skilled performer, so it would certainly be silly of the Black Eagles not to enter her as their representative. Of course, he’s even more unimpressed by Lorenz; although that feeling is certainly not mutual with the rest of the audience, judging by the whispered murmurs as his housemate steps forward. No, neither of those two are any surprise at all.

Dimitri certainly is, though.

The three of them had been fitted in loose outfits, similar to that of a dancer’s, to allow for more fluid movements. Dimitri’s face is as red as that one of his housemate’s hair- the skirt chaser, Claude thinks -but he stands tall, head raised despite his shame. The prince’s collarbones are exposed, and he can see just a hit of blond chest hair peeking out from underneath the collar of his white blouse. 

Distantly, Claude realizes his mouth is gaping open.

“Stop drooling, lover boy.” Hilda says with a small snicker, and then it hits Claude why she was so adamant on him coming with her. She had known Dimitri was the Blue Lions representative this entire time!

“You sneaky witch,” Claude hisses between his teeth, unable to tear his eyes away from Dimitri. “you, Hilda, are evil. Despicable, in fact!”

“Oh, please.” She scoffs, and Claude doesn’t need to look at her to know she’s rolling her eyes. His snake of a best friend puts her hand on his knee, since he had planted his feet on the ground again so big was his shock, and gives it a few pats. “You’ll be thanking me soon enough. I’ve seen his practice sessions, you know.”

Claude doesn’t dignify her with a response. He cranes his neck as high as he can, just short of actually standing up to watch. Soft music starts echoing in the ballroom, prompting each of their respective dances to start. Somehow, Claude feels even more lightheaded than before.

Dimitri is gorgeous. It doesn’t take a genius to reach that conclusion. His blue eyes are warm and genuine, even with that constant darkness that lingers beneath them. His hair looks to be softer than even the silky fur of the many cats that frequent the monastery, devoid of any knots or mats and overall looks perfect to run one’s fingers through. And his  _ lips.  _ Oh, Claude can’t be paid to admit just how many times he’s dreamed of kissing those very same lips, that always turn up into a hint of a smile whenever they cross gazes.

Even sitting so far away from him, Claude can observe all these little details about Dimitri just as if they were standing face to face. Preferably sucking said faces.  _ Oh Seiros _ .

It isn’t like himself to be so flustered, but watching such a perfect being, a  _ deity _ almost, that is Dimitri does things to a man. He feels no shame in admitting (to himself) that he is completely enraptured, mystified,  _ willingly _ , by His Princeliness.

It is, of course, but a silly crush.

“Oh, to be in love.” Hilda says with a grin. Before Claude can even think of correcting her, the music regretfully stops.

_ Aw _ , he thinks to himself, past the point of caring. 

Claude isn’t surprised when Dimitri is announced the winner, but His Princeliness sure is. His face erupts in flames when Alois hands him the dancer’s garb. Dorothea looks amused, laughing as she claps good-naturedly, whilst Lorenz looks as if he’d sucked a lemon.

Claude wants to congratulate him. Personally.

Just as Dimitri shuffles out of the ballroom, followed by the other two contestants, Claude gets up as well, dusting the back of his pants with sweaty palms.

“Hey.” Hilda stops him with a hand on his wrist. “Good luck, lover boy.”

Claude smiles, already turning towards the exit.

“Thanks.”

-

That night, Hilda spots her house leader and Dimiri sneaking out from the dining hall, inconspicuously holding hands.

“Boys.” She says, then sighs.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading :)


End file.
